


Aposematism and Crypsis

by Anarfea



Series: Laws of Men and Nature [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Infidelity, Janine Moriarty - Freeform, Married Mary Morstan/John Watson, Multi, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarfea/pseuds/Anarfea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Not now, Janine,” Mary whispered furiously, her back against the wall of the handicapped stall.  “Not here.”  Through the walls, she could hear the syncopated rhythms of ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun;’ the melody was muddled, but the bass penetrated.  Both became suddenly louder as the door opened.  Her eyes widened.</p><p>“Oh, come off it,” Jeanine hissed.  “Everyone knows the bride needs help with her dress in the loo.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aposematism and Crypsis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prurient_curiosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prurient_curiosity/gifts).



> The term Aposematism was coined by the English zoologist Edward Bagnall Poulton in his 1890 book _The Colours of Animals_. He based the term on the Ancient Greek words ἀπό (away), σ̑ημα (sign), referring to signs that warn other animals away. The term describes a family of anti-predator adaptations where a warning signal advertises to potential predators the unsuitability of the individual as prey, such as through the use of warning coloration of venomous animals.
> 
> Crypsis is the ability of an organism to avoid observation or detection by other organisms. It may be either a predation strategy or an antipredator adaptation, and methods include camouflage, nocturnality, subterranean lifestyle, transparency, and mimicry.
> 
>  
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> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is dedicated for my most steadfast beta, Prurient_curiosity. Thank you for all your assistance in making me a better writer over the years. Also, happy birthday.
> 
> Thanks also are owed to beyonces_fiancee for beta-ing this chapter.

May 18, 2014

6:51 PM

 

“Not now, Janine,” Mary whispered furiously, her back against the wall of the handicapped stall.  “Not here.”  Through the walls, she could hear the syncopated rhythms of ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun;’ the melody was muddled, but the bass penetrated.  Both became suddenly louder as the door opened.  Her eyes widened.

“Oh, come off it,” Jeanine hissed.  “Everyone knows the bride needs help with her dress in the loo.”

She relaxed, slightly, because Jeanine had a point.  Mary stared into Jeanine’s perfectly made-up eyes, which went from amber and warm to dark and smouldering as they listened to the woman run water in the sink.  She felt Janine’s gaze heat her up, warm her whole body as the woman presumably tidied her hair and refreshed her lipstick.  Her breath quickened as the woman’s heels clicked briskly across the floor, and then the music blared again as she opened it and made her way back to the reception.

As soon as the song was muffled again, their lips snapped together like a loosed rubber band, tongues darting out in desperation.  Mary tasted of champagne and mint and her lips were so much softer than John’s.  Her _husband_ John’s.  Mary pushed the thought from her mind as Janine pushed her back against the wall and resolutely did not think.  She let herself relax into the kiss, which deepened as Jeanine slid a hand behind her neck.

“My hair.” Mary broke the kiss.  “You’ll muss it.”

“I’ll fix it.  Isn’t that one of those Chief Bridesmaid tasks?”  Irony crept into her Irish brogue, and Mary stopped her, holding her face.

“Are you jealous?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Jeanine deadpanned.  “Watching you on John’s arm while I pretend I want to get handcuffed by Sherlock is my idea of a fantastic time.”

She sighed.  “I’m sorry.  How’s the Sherlock project going?”

“I’ve got him trying to find me a date for the night, and he asked me if I like solving crimes.  He even confessed his secret love of dancing earlier, and did a little pirouette.”

Mary tried to imagine that, and couldn’t, and giggled.

“Anyway, he clearly likes me.  I suspect I’ll end up at his later this evening.”

Mary tried to keep her face neutral, but something must have shown, because Janine smiled and brought her hand to Mary’s face, tracing the line of Mary’s jaw with her fingers.  “Not like that, love.  I think Sherlock’s intrigued, and with any luck he will be very useful to us.  But he’s in no way interested in sleeping with me.”

Mary smiled and mirrored Janine’s gesture, letting her fingers trail down the length of Janine’s slender neck and the line of her collarbone above her strapless dress.  The lilac really did suit her, however much she’d whinged about the colour.  “His loss.”

“Yes, well.  I told Jim he was asexual.”

Mary pursed her lips.  Because she’d seen the way that Sherlock’s eyes sometimes lingered on John, and she sometimes thought there was a spark of something, there.  She’d watched John, as well, for signs of reciprocation, but remained uncertain of anything but that they loved each other.

“Still, he loves John Watson, doesn’t he.”  Janine sighed.

Mary smiled.  This was why she loved Janine, who knew her name, who knew her history, who knew all her thoughts and moods.  She suspected Jeanine knew that Mary had accidentally fallen in love with John, too, though the subject was never broached by unspoken agreement.

“He’ll need someone with him tonight, and I intend to be there.”

Mary nodded.  She had been counting on Sherlock’s devotion, had thought that was perhaps the one thing they had in common; she’d held her love of John out to him instinctively the night they met, while Sherlock had held a tissue to his bleeding nose, when she’d looked into his bewildered face and realized how very little he understood about human nature.  How close love lay to hate, to rage, to grief.  How quickly would John’s love for her curdle, once he knew about her past?

She knew that was the point--to hurt John, to drive him back to Baker Street, possibly into Sherlock’s arms.  But over the past months, there were times when she’d almost forgotten.   Earlier in the afternoon, even with Janine next to her, there had been moments when she’d fantasized that her wedding to John was real, that this was the first day of the rest of their lives together.  

She leaned against the wall of the stall again, trying to tamp down the despair welling up from her belly.  

Janine saw it on her face, and frowned.

“Magnussen sent me a telegram.”  Let Janine think that was why she was worried.

“I noticed.  Don’t worry about him.  Tonight went well enough, didn’t it?”

Mary nodded.  John was already talking about updating the Mayfly Man’s entry on his blog.

“It won’t be long, now.  Mycroft’s become paralyzed, but if I can draw Sherlock in, he will bestir himself.”

Mary tried to smile.  She believed Jeanine.  She did.  But Jeanine was playing a long game, and Mary’s nerves were wearing thin.  “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Jeanine grimaced.  “It’s not easy for me, either, you know.  Smiling at Magnussen and calling him ‘Sir,’ every day, knowing you sleep with someone else every night.”

“You asked me to seduce John, remember?”  It was a low blow, but Jeanine wasn’t playing fair.

“I remember everything.”

It was true.  Jeanine remembered even more than Jim had, and had a better eye for detail.

Jeanine sighed.  “I thought Sherlock would return before John proposed.”

“And that John would leave me, once Himself was in his life again?”

“Yes.”

The words stung more than they should.  That had been her hope, as well.  That John’s grief at her loss would be short lived; that Sherlock would pick him up more quickly, and piece him back together more completely, than she had managed in the months after Sherlock’s feigned suicide.  John was supposed to forget her.  That had always been her plan.  Their plan.

“I’m sorry we had to take it this far.  If I had known--but I didn’t, and I’m sorry.  But it’s not your fault.  Just go on your sex holiday and try not to worry, and I promise that Sherlock and I will be well on our way to having the Magnussen problem sorted.”  Janine kissed her again, a brief brush of lips on lips.  “Come on, let’s get you fixed up so you can dance your first dance with John.”

 

* * *

 

 

Janine had removed and re-applied Mary’s lipstick, rearranged her curls, kissed her forehead, and Mary had glanced in the mirror and told herself that she was going to be fine.

John had turned her slowly around the room while Sherlock played the waltz he’d written for them, sorrow writ large on his face, and Mary reminded herself that Sherlock would be fine.

Janine had whooped at him afterwards, started a round of applause, and Sherlock had thrown his buttonhole at her and she’d caught it, and Mary reminded herself that Janine was going to be fine.

And then Sherlock had said “the signs of three,” and she’d realized that nothing was fine.  Nothing would ever be fine again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Update 03/25/18: Since Prurient_curiosity has left the fandom and this fic is thoroughly jossed in any case, I'm going to go ahead and mark it complete and adjust the tags accordingly.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Aposematism and Crypsism, Part I: Chapter One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6000427) by [finnagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnagain/pseuds/finnagain)




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